not you yourself taught me that placing the saving of our own souls
above all things is incompatible with the love of God above all things?
That when we love truly we do not think of ourselves? That we strive
only to do the will of the person beloved, and desire that others do the
same? That thus we are sure of salvation, and that he who constantly has
in mind the saving of his own soul risks losing it?"

"That is very true, very true, my dear friend," answered the Padre,
stroking his hair. "But nevertheless to-morrow you must go to Jenne,
and remain there until I send for you. I will give you a letter to the
parish priest, who is a most worthy man, and you can stay with him. Do
you understand? And now we will go to the monastery, for it is late!"

He rose and obliged Benedetto to do the same. Above their heads the
clock of Santa Scolastica was ringing the hour. Was it ten o'clock,
or was it eleven? Don Clemente had not counted the strokes from the
beginning, and feared the worst; for with all these conflicting emotions
he had lost account of time. What was going to happen? Who could have
foreseen? And what would take place now? They left the grassy plateau
and started up the steep and rocky mule-path, Don Clemente in front, and
Benedetto following close behind; both silent and with stormy souls,
while the deep voice of the Anio answered their thoughts. At a bend of
the path they see the lights of distant Subiaco. Only a few, however, so
it is probably eleven o'clock! Presently a dark corner of the inclosure
of Santa Scolastica looms before the wayfarers. Benedetto is thinking by
what a mysterious way God has led him from the _logge_ at Praglia, where
Jeanne tempted and conquered him, to this toilsome ascent amidst the
gloom towards another holy spot, with Jeanne near, and his heart
anchored in Christ.